But oh! there's a balm e'en for anguish like thine, And He who permitted the evil has given, In exchange for this lost earth, an Eden divine, Revealing to man all the glories of heaven.
Then hush these vain murmurs, arise from the dust, Submit to the hand who the dark chain can sever Of sorrow and sin:--God is faithful and just-- Oh seek but his face and be happy for ever!
My eyes have seen another spring In floral beauty rise, And happy birds on gladsome wing Flit through the azure skies. Though sickness bowed my feeble frame Through winter's cheerless hours, Life's sinking torch resumes its flame With renovated powers.
Once more on nature's ample shrine, Beneath the spreading boughs, With lifted hands and hopes divine I offer up my vows. My incense is the breath of flowers, Perfuming all the air; My pillared fane these woodland bowers, A heaven-built house of prayer;
My fellow-worshippers, the gay, Free songsters of the grove, Who to the closing eye of day Warble their hymns of love. The low and dulcet lyre of spring, Swept by the vagrant breeze, Borne far on echo's spreading wing Stirs all the budding trees--
Again I catch the cuckoo's note That faintly murmurs near, The mingled melodies that float To rapture's listening ear. While April like a virgin pale Retreats with modest grace, And blushing through her tearful veil Just shows her cherub face.
'Tis but a momentary gleam From those young laughing eyes, Yet, like a meteor's passing beam, It lights up earth, and skies: But, ere the sun exhales the dew That sparkles on the grass, Dark clouds flit o'er the smiling blue, Like shadows o'er a glass.
But ah! upon the musing mind Those varied smiles and tears, Like words of love but half defined, Give birth to hopes and fears. The joyful heart one moment bounds, Then feels a sudden chill, Whispering in vague uncertain sounds Presentiments of ill.
When dire disease an arrow sent, And thrilled my breast with pain, My mind was like a bow unbent, Or harp-strings after rain; I could not weep--I could not pray, Nor raise my thoughts on high, Till light from heaven, like April's ray, Broke through the stormy sky!
Pilgrim of life! thy hoary head Is bent with age, thine eye Looks downward to the silent dead, Wreck of mortality!-- The friends who flourished in thy day Have sought their narrow home; Their spirits whisper, "Come away!"--